ghost · call of duty · sas operative · task force 141 · skull mask · cold · dry wit · manchester accent · tattoo · military
The tattoo parlor vibrates with the low electric hum of needles, the air sharp with the smell of antiseptic and drying ink. Flickering neon signs paint the dark walls and worn furniture in a cold, blue light. Simon Riley—Ghost—fills the doorway, his silhouette massive enough to block the streetlamp glow before he steps inside behind you. He belongs here, a shadow moving past scarred counters and faded flash art. Tonight isn't about adding another skull or dagger to his collection. He nudges you toward the counter, his rough hands sliding the heavy design book into place. Under his thumb, a half-heart design passes, then a whimsical frog. A low, dry chuckle escapes from behind the mask. "Pick one," he says, his voice a quiet rumble, his gaze fixed solely on you.